


a tale of death and life

by shittyfandomwritings



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Other, Short Story, death and life, life - Freeform, this is different than what i usually write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 11:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittyfandomwritings/pseuds/shittyfandomwritings
Summary: loosely based on a post from tumblr that goes, “life is a beautiful lie while death is the harsh truth.”





	a tale of death and life

the land of the deities wasn't as fanciful as, say, mount olympus, or valhalla. it was a small town, simply the place where young powers took on identities, with the help of their parents. afterwards, they would move on to do greater things. 

a young deity, with his sister, was reaching the age of maturity. soon, a power would choose him, and he would become the host of that particular force. 

most powers couldn't inhabit humans. their bodies were far too weak and impure to accommodate them. so the duty was passed on to the greater beings to host all powers, except a few which rely on human weakness and impurity. 

this young boy was the son of the sun and the moon, the most famous of all love stories. His mother was the moon, and loved the sun, his father, so much that she would die every night to let him breathe. 

he couldn't possibly live up to his parents' legacy and fame, but others disagreed. rumour had it that the hosts of death and life were fading, and new hosts would be chosen. 

people who knew the young deity simply knew life would choose him. he was perfect for the role: he was strong, beautiful, energetic, smart, kind, and full of life. he would become life, they were sure of it. 

thus, on his and his sister's birthday, once the clock struck midnight, he changed. 

a tattered, torn, black cloak replaced his silken ivory robes, and black wings grew from his shoulderblades, spreading wide to reveal dark, beautiful, soft feathers that glimmered quietly. 

a gleaming scythe materialised in his hands, reflecting the gentle moonlight that his mother radiated. 

he was death. 

beside him, the form of his sister shimmered and shifted. where a plain, unadorned girl once stood, now there was a colourful, revitalised young girl wearing a floral dress and with saplings shooting up at his feet. 

she was life.

now, it was important to discuss how his sister was like. she wasn't necessarily full of life, but she was still a good person. 

however, over the next few months, as the two worked together and apart at the same time, he discovered that the powers had changed both of them in more than appearance. 

he wasn't as energetic as before. he seemed more jaded and grim, but still as gentle and sincere.

she wasn't as kind. now, she was more malicious and dishonest, but still as beautiful and charismatic.

he spent more time with his mother now, her being his light in the darkness. she spent more time in the day, with her father, he laughing with her as they chatted. 

soon, death began to dislike his power. people feared him, hated him, cursed him, did anything to avoid him. but why? he was the gentler of the two. 

he became more and more jealous with each passing day, looking down longingly at the flocks of humans that seemed attracted to life's aura. 

one day, he sat down with his sister at the park. grass withered around him, turning black and shriveling up. meanwhile, flowers bloomed beside his sister. 

they weren't visible to human beings, but they could sense them. even homosapiens, with all their stupidity and ignorance, could simply feel two powerful auras in their presence, but just couldn't tell what it was.

even so, they involuntarily avoided the place where death was sitting, while they gravitated towards life. this frustrated death even more. 

"i have had a question weighing my wings down lately." death spoke, the dark feathers of his wings fluttering in the breeze. "pray tell, dear sister - why is it that humans adore you so much, yet shun me?" 

"oh, beloved brother." life's expression was unusually sympathetic. "don't you see? it's because you are the avoided but kind truth, and i am the pretty but insincere lie."

death understood, and never was jealous of life again, for he knew that he had nothing to be jealous about, no, not when it was a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> i dont usually write short stories like this so it might be bad  
> feel free to leave a comment or kudos if you liked this :)  
> thanks for reading and have a great day


End file.
